


Scholarly

by witandwaldorf



Category: Gossip Girl
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2020-01-24 10:01:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18569113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witandwaldorf/pseuds/witandwaldorf
Summary: Being a scholar student was hardly something Blair Waldorf was proud of, even if it was at her dream school, Yale. So Blair arrives on campus determined to make a fresh start and keep her middle-class upbringing a secret. Except, her roommate Georgina Sparks is an Upper East Side nightmare and she’s stuck on the first day of classes sitting next to some guy who sees her as a charity case and keeps loaning her his spare textbooks.Dan Humphrey was supposed to blend in at Yale and finally find a way to fit in with academics who didn’t have the wealthy background that had somehow woven its way into his adolescence. But Georgina Sparks is making it hard for him not to pretend he’s not the stepson of one of Manhattan’s richest families and carrying around extra copies of three-hundred-dollar textbooks probably isn’t helping his image either. Maybe he won't ditch the spare copy of the book because the girl next to him in film class doesn't have her own and each time he lends her his, her shiny headbands make him dizzy with deja vu.





	1. First Day

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the amazing, ASadAir, for beta-ing again and for coming up with this concept! :)

_**Fall Semester | Freshman Year** _

_**** _

The air around campus is electric, the charge so strong it practically sparks Blair Waldorf's sterling silver crystal headband. She reaches up instinctively, adjusting it, as she stands nervously before the door of her dorm room. Her  _Yale_ dorm room.

She's imagined this moment so many times before that each of her practiced movements come to life with ease. She half expects to open the door to a blonde roommate, glasses perched on her nose, frowning down at a book. A girl with hair the color of wheat is a natural top choice for her new best friend/roommate, but Blair supposes she'd settle for a redhead, with a quirky name like Mae. Preferably, she'll love classic movies just as much as Blair and they'll spend their evenings shirking all parties and hosting sophisticated soirees instead.

Squeezing her eyes shut, briefly, she tries to conjure the fictitious Mae into being. Yet, when she opens the door the room is empty. Hardwood floors gleam as though they've just been polished and Blair says a silent prayer to all the college gods, thanking them for assigning her to a newly renovated residence hall.

Blair rolls in her suitcases and sets to unpacking and decorating. By the time her room is bespectacled in portraits of Audrey Hepburn and movie posters, her roommate still hasn't arrived. She sinks down onto her tufted duvet, sighing in disappointment.

To occupy herself, she sends Nate the photo of her dorm she snapped as soon as she finished adorning it with her things. She doesn't send a message along with it, even though she wants to tell him how terribly she misses him. That would be too transparent. But she does prop up the stuffed bulldog he gave her onto the center of the bed so he sees it.

Blair flips through her itinerary for the week, wishing for the umpteenth time that the Elizabethan Club permitted freshmen. She just knows that they would adore her, good manners and all, in spite of her friendless, fatherless, and practically Dickensian upbringing. The Duchess of Cambridge herself would admit Blair membership were she a Yale student.

Sinking back onto a silky pillow, Blair feels a wave of gratitude to finally be out of Upstate. The place she never belonged. She's hit with a tiny pang of guilt as she pictures her mother sitting at her sewing machine frowning over shoddy seams with no daughter in sight to offer suggestions or help.

Growing up, the happiest fantasy a young Blair could conjure was herself situated in her Ivy League dorm room. But now, it's feeling a lot lonelier than she pictured. She thought she and her roommate would be halfway through their life stories by now in their already blossoming friendship.

With one last forlorn glance at the empty bed across from hers, Blair forces herself up and out of the solitary room. By leaving now, she'll be a little early to the orientation seminar but at least this way she can snag a good seat.

The auditorium is already filled with a few dozen freshmen and Blair is glad she didn't wait any longer for her AWOL roomie. She walks past the clamour of the back rows and brazenly takes a seat in the empty third row, unbothered by its lack of company. Once settled, she retrieves a few supplies from her school tote. The ivory blooms on her pale pink planner stare back at her in her lap and she flips to the month of September.

A dizzying excitement fills Blair as she looks at the empty squares, just waiting to be filled in with deadline dates and campus activities. Her phone buzzes in her purse beside her, a tiny Chloé crossbody bag that must have taken her mother a solid year to save up for.

Nate has replied with a photo of his own dorm room at Dartmouth, already littered with a couple of empty beer bottles and dirty socks. She smiles down at the image, the very epitome of her best friend's carefree attitude toward college. He's typed a message along with the photo:

> _How many black and white movies have you already subjected your roommate to?_

She types back:

> _None. She's MIA. Also, 'subjected'? You know my good taste in movies is half the reason why I'm your best friend._

Nate texts:

> _I bet she took one glance inside the room and asked for a new assignment_.

Blair is so busy texting back and forth she doesn't even notice the seats around her have filled up until there's the loud echo of someone tapping on a microphone. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see that two hardly idyllic candidates for friendship have sat next to her: a guy in a blazer who's drumming his fingers on his desk, to Blair's annoyance, and a girl who seems to plan on publishing a book based on this seminar with her scrawling hand detailing every word spoken.

Dismissing them with a flick of her gaze, Blair hurriedly turns her attention to the dean and tries to take notes, albeit less maniacally than her seatmate. By the time the seminar has concluded, the white squares in her planner's calendar are scattered with black ink. The seats beside her are empty, the unwelcomed duo having likely migrated elsewhere. Blair stands, feeling a little disappointed at how underwhelming this day has been for the beginnings of a new chapter.

An all too familiar feeling.

* * *

_**Twelfth Grade**   **|**  _ _**Albany, NY** _

_After a day spent listening to her classmates talk of their über romantic 'promposals' and dress-shopping plans, Blair wanted too desperately to forget about the upcoming dance._

_But the deafening, disappointing sound of her mother's sewing machine whirring when she arrives home tells her talk of the prom is not yet over._ _She knows exactly what the threads in the machine are weaving._

_Her prom dress._

_Each rhythmic movement furthers Blair's lukewarm anticipation of the supposed quintessential high school event that will certainly only further cement her hatred of this period in her life. A night that will be spent in a homemade dress._

_If asked where she got it, she'll have to either lie or confess that she and her mother didn't even have the money to buy from a thrift shop. Certainly not enough to even consider buying one of the Jovani dresses her classmates adored, not that she'd want one of those monstrosities with all the bedazzled necklines and over-bright hues._

_But still, she had hoped to wear a vintage Marc Jacobs or even at the very least an Alice + Olivia dress from a few seasons ago. Yet, the savings she had acquired from working the past three years at the local consignment shop was barely enough to cover the living expenses she would acquire once she went off to college._

_She didn't voice any of this to her mother, of course not. She wasn't ungrateful enough to do that. It was times like this she wished she had a proper father to run interference, to perhaps gently suggest to her mother that Blair might like a dress of her own choosing. Preferably from a store not the living room she came home to every day._

_She thought of Harold, her sweet donor dad, and realized that level of parenting wasn't in his repertoire. Besides, they only talked once or twice a month, she couldn't ask him to negotiate. The dress was halfway done..._

_Her mother's designs were beautiful, yet there was something too familiar about them to truly make her feel like a princess for the night. Knowing exactly how each panel of fabric was stitched together somehow took the magic away._

_At least she still had her prince, she reminded herself. Nate Archibald was taking her to prom. As a friend, but still. Prom with Nate... Yale next year… It was all coming together._

_Even if she still had to sleep on itchy 200-thread-count sheets and would have to wake up at 6 AM every morning this summer for her internship at the local paper._

_Three more months and she'd be at Yale._

_Three more months and no more pricked fingers from needles and watching her mother fail to secure her own dreams._

_The mechanical hum fades as she walks into her boxy bedroom and she lets out an exhale._

* * *

There's something familiar about the glint Dan spots out of the corner of his eye in the second event of the welcome day at Yale. He turns ever so slightly to catch a glimpse of the light source and sees it's a girl's crystal-studded headband that's threatening to blind him. A flicker of recognition tells him maybe he was in the same orientation as her earlier. But before he can properly survey the headband-wearing girl's face, a screeching voice halts him.

"What the fuck, Dan?" An unmistakable shrill comes over his shoulder. "I told you to save me a seat. Definitely not one in the front row either. Come on, let's move toward the back."

Dan whirls around to see Georgina Sparks hovering behind his chair, looking annoyed. Her ice blue eyes keep flicking meaningfully in the direction of a pair of empty seats in the corner of the auditorium.

He dutifully stands with a release of his breath and follows Georgina to the empty chairs. Why he indulges her is inexplicable, even to him, it's not like Serena is here to scold him for snubbing her best friend. This is college too, he doesn't need the protection of the few Upper East Side allies he had. No one knows his backstory here, yet there he goes following her every request. Perhaps simply because it's easier to go along with Georgina's imperiousness. He doesn't have the backbone to go toe-to-toe with her.

Dan was truthfully shocked that she even made it to the campus. He thought his stepsister's pleas for her best friend to take a year off would succeed, yet Georgina was here. For the foreseeable future, Georgina would be buried in textbooks while Serena was off sunning in the tropics. Dan mentally fact-checked himself; it was more likely some hopeless scholar student would be the one buried in books on Georgina's behalf as she paid them to ace all her classes.

While the speaker up at the podium drones on over on-campus clubs and extracurriculars, the auditorium stays silent. Dan wants to pull out his phone to do a quick Google search of the next flight out to Turks and Caicos he could put Georgina on but the glow of his phone would only put more attention on him. He knows this because Georgina's own face is alight with the blue reflection of her phone. He glances over to see her gazing longingly at a photo of a cerulean sea and white sand beach Serena just posted.

Dan has the sudden desire to slip out of his seat while she's distracted and sit somewhere further away. Maybe back beside the girl with the shiny crown. But he knows he's stuck; Georgina's surprisingly strong arm would reel him back if he even leaned forward too far.

So instead, he listens quietly and thinks up five hundred ways to get rid of one Georgina Sparks.

* * *

After the welcome dinner has concluded and Blair has made approximately zero friends, she's struck with a bit of regret. Maybe she should have gotten that glasses-wearing girl phone number from the seminar earlier.  _Nelly_ , she thinks was her name. Or even that fidgety guy that had sat next to her. Then, her Yale contact list wouldn't be quite so desolate. At this rate, she'd be defaulted into a single dorm without her consent. No one wanted to room with the social pariah.

Trying to cheer herself, Blair brightens at the thought that her roommate might have finally moved in. If she did so while orientation was happening, she might be just as desperately in need of friends as Blair.

With a tiny tremor of excitement, she pushes her dorm door open to see indeed, it's finally occupied. A long mane of shiny inky hair is bouncing around as a girl slams a dresser door shut. There's a ferocity to her movements that makes Blair slightly uneasy.

"Hi," Blair says tentatively.

The girl spins around, her face unfriendly, and Blair is instantly stricken as she realizes she recognizes her. The girl with the glacial eyes from the seminar earlier. She was the one who had whisked away the guy two seats over. Everyone, including Blair, had turned to see who the domineering girl was barging into the seminar with her rampant cursing.

At the time, she was sort of grateful for the tornado swooping him away- after all, she was fairly certain he was the culprit responsible for the echoing sound of drum beats in her head. But now, she suddenly rues the girl's existence.

Her eyes are now lit with something like mischief as she surveys Blair. "Well, hello. Aren't you adorable with your little tiara?"

"It's a headband." Blair corrects, touching it self-consciously, suddenly feeling like she's fallen prey to a domineering predator in the wild.

"So cute," The girl says in long vowels, striding over. "I'm Georgina."

"Blair." Her voice becomes tense as her hand is wrapped in a vice-like grip by Georgina. When she finally releases her, Blair has to clench and unclench her fist a few times.

"This is going to be so fun!" Georgina announces suddenly, surprising and terrifying Blair. She really is the prey...

"It is?" Blair asks with hesitation. She walks over to her dresser and starts straightening the framed photos to escape Georgina's eager gaze.  _Her and Nate at prom in her tulle shimmery dress, graduation day with her mom's arm wrapped tightly around her…_ The photos make her stomach churn suddenly.

"Of course it is." Georgina clasps her hands together. "Now, I hope you don't mind but I took the liberty of taking down that old guy's photo from the wall. It'll hardly encourage the lacrosse guys to hang out in our room."

"You took down Cary?" Blair asks with mournful eyes.

Blair glances over to Georgina's side of the room to see what sort of photos she has up and she instantly regrets it. Georgina surrounded by impossibly beautiful friends in designer dresses, another shot with her and two guys- all of them school uniforms, then one glamour shot of just herself, figures.

"Sorry." Georgina feigns an apologetic expression. "Maybe you can tuck your Grandpa Cary's photo into your nightstand or something."

"He's not my Grandpa." Blair says defensively, wishing she could rewind this whole day. This wasn't how her first day at Yale was supposed to go. She and her roommate were supposed to  _swoon_ over Cary Grant together not call him Grandpa. "That's Cary Gra- Nevermind."

Blair sighs in resignation. "So. Georgina." She punctuates each of her words with precision, as though that might help her take hold of the situation. "Have you decided on your major yet?"

"God, no." Georgina rolls her eyes. "Don't tell me you already have?"

"Of course, I have." Blair says, aghast. She thought all Ivy Leaguers had detailed five-year, ten-year, and fifteen-year plans mapped out for their personal and professional lives. "Film and Media Studies."

"Oh, you're one of those." Georgina surveys Blair in a dismissive way. "Pretentious."

Blair jolts at her roommate's brashness, offended by her rudeness. She can't help her defensive tone as she replies. "Not pretentious. Cultured."

"Fuck." Georgina lets out a breath as though completely resigned. Then she gives her a measured look. "You sound  _exactly_ like Dan."

Blair presumes this is Georgina's boyfriend and she can't help but wonder how she's struggling to even get a platonic relationship while Georgina has already shackled someone down by the first day of college. She assumes this is a new relationship- it's not like Georgina is the high-school sweetheart type. She probably eats men and spits them back out at a shark's pace.

"Dan?" Blair asks to be polite even though she couldn't care less who this Dan figure is. Probably a total asshole if he has the patience to deal with this girl. She doesn't know why, but she wants to know how this cultured, friendly individual came to be involved with someone so callous and crass.

"Dan." Georgina repeats, as though Blair should understand. "My best friend's stepbrother.  _Dan_. I can't really describe him any other way. You'll meet him sooner or later I'm sure, I apologize in advance for his tendency to ramble and be,  _well_ , so uncultivated."

"What does that mean?" Blair asks curiously.  _Was he a total barbarian frat bro or something?_

"You'll find out." Georgina replies breezily. "Anyway, I'm so over this whole unpacking thing, Claire. You don't mind if I leave these boxes here, do you?" She points to the center of the room which is scattered with plastic tubs and cardboard cubes overflowing with knicknacks. "I'm exhausted and need to go get a drink. A frat party must be happening somewhere around here."

"It's Blair." Blair says through her teeth. Her roommate likes frat parties, can't even get her name right, and Blair doesn't know how she didn't expect this.

"Right." Georgina cuts a hand through the air, as though that's what she said.

Blair waits for Georgina to ask her to tag along. Blair would say no, probably, but Georgina doesn't offer anyway. Instead, her pale legs stride across the room with purpose and she's gone in a whirl, the door slamming shut so hard that Blair's hair is pushed off her face with a flourish.

Blair is left surrounded by overstuffed boxes and the swimming sensation of homesickness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all liked the start of this fic! I'll post Chapter 2 by next Tuesday!


	2. Headbands and Books

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the unexpectedly long hiatus! Thanks to the amazing ASadAir who beta'd this chapter way back and by doing so, allowed me to return with a fic update! If you're still reading this fic despite the break, it truly means everything :) I'm still pretty busy day-to-day and can't promise weekly updates but I am really going to strive for a chapter every now and then.

Despite her first day qualms, Yale proves to be better than it had been in all of Blair's vivid imaginations. The campus air feels like it's infused with a heavy dose of opium and she practically glides to and from her classes. By the end of the week, her shoulder aches from overstuffed totes, filled with texts and notebooks. Yet, she's never felt lighter.

The only thing still missing in her collegiate dreamworld is the reliable circle of friends and the tight-knit roomie relationship. But there's still plenty of time to fix that and there's no time like the present.

"I was thinking," Blair says on Saturday. "We should have a sushi soiree in our dorm. So we can meet everyone else in our building."

Georgina's eyes flick up from where they had been idly glancing through a magazine. "A sushi party?"

Blair feels an instant wave of regret at her suggestion upon surveying Georgina's wrinkled nose. She forces her voice to be breezy, just like she'd been practicing since the age of three- the way they talk in Sex In The City, so she'd sound a little more Uptown than Upstate. "Yes. We could make the rolls together using a video tutorial and then serve it up on vintage platters. Maybe just invite our floor, so there's enough for everyone."

This explanation only seems to bemuse Georgina further. "I hate fish."

"We'll make veggie rolls, in that case. Avocado, cucumber, carrot, maybe even sweet potato." Blair presses on, not letting Georgina deter her. "I think it would be a great way to branch out."

Georgina shakes her head. "I don't think so, I'm going to go meet up with a few friends now actually. So I'll see you later."

Blair sinks back onto the bed bemoaning the fact that even in college, even at Yale, she still can't quite seem to fit in.

* * *

_**11th grade.** _

_**Albany, NY.** _

_"Zoe," Jessica's perfectly symmetrical face rests on her hands, poised like a schoolgirl. "Tell us what happened with Brent."_

_Snap._

_Blair breaks her carrot stick in half and then in half again until it's bite-sized. She drops it, letting it fall onto the ground of the cafeteria._

_"So I obviously had to push him off of me. Like ew, a freshman, 'I date seniors only, thank you.'" Zoe waves her ring-clad hand dismissively._

_Blair is trying so hard not to listen but it's impossible not to hear the chatter and let it drag the blade through her chest a little deeper. Another Monday, another story of the party she wasn't invited to. By her so-called friends._

_"Honestly, Zo," Juliet begins, sagely, her cerulean eyes full of self-important wisdom. "It would have been social suicide to hook-up with him. I probably wouldn't have let you sit with us today."_

_Jessica titters, as though Juliet's just said the funniest thing and Blair has the urge to be sick. She stands up, starts to make an excuse, but then realizes if they didn't care enough to invite her to the rager at Damien's Saturday night then they probably won't even notice she's gone._

_Another wave of nausea hits at the thought and she makes it into the bathroom stall just in time._

_Afterward, she pops a mint in her mouth and tells her reflection she won't do that again. At least not once she finds herself some new friends._

* * *

Dan is in line at the bookstore trying to decide if he should just order his textbooks online in used condition like everyone else. But Lily wouldn't hear of it, he was certain. Georgina would probably rat out his frugal college lifestyle and then he'd have to hear about how Daniel, a used textbook doesn't show how serious you are about academia.

More like, a stepson who buys used textbooks might damage her already treacherous Upper East Side reputation. Marrying a former rockstar had its cons, at least in the eyes of the WASPs.

Sometimes, he wondered what his life would have been like if his father hadn't married Lily van der Woodsen when he was five. They certainly wouldn't have lived in the sprawling townhouse overlooking Central Park. Maybe they would have been in his father's old loft in Williamsburg. The place Lily compared to a mechanic's workshop. As though she had ever maintained or even driven a vehicle before.

Every now and then, a memory from toddlerhood pops into his brain and the fuzzy reverie always slips away before he can properly analyze it. He doesn't know why but he could swear these brief flashes seem happier than any of the memories he's ever made in the sterile place he called 'home' for the past thirteen years of his life.

One time, he asked Jenny if she ever missed Brooklyn and she just furrowed her brow. She didn't even remember living there. In her eyes, the stork had dropped her off on Fifth Avenue in a silk swaddle and Lily had pushed her home in a pram.

Jenny's whole perspective of her life seemed to be a reverse Cinderella story, in fact. Lily was a fairy godmother who bippity boppity boo'ed her into happiness and her own biological mother served as the evil stepmother. Anytime they went to visit Alison in Hudson Jenny would call it 'banishment.' She acted like Hudson was someplace to be ashamed of stepping foot in.

Thinking of it now and feeling another fresh wave of irritation, Dan opens up Amazon and presses order on a used copy of "Film Studies: An Introduction" with a few ink stains on the cover. Just to spite Lily.

He regrets it instantly, she is the one paying for the Ivy League education and decides to stay in line like the good stepson he is. But he doesn't press cancel on the used copy order, he has a feeling he might want it after all.

When he gets back to his dorm, his roommate is out and Dan has the sparse room all to himself. He glances around at the bare walls wondering if he should hang some art. Maybe next time he's in Hudson he'll see if he can salvage a painting of his mother's that's not horribly inappropriate. He still cringes at the memory of stumbling upon a ten-foot-high painting of Alison's sheet-draped boyfriend, Alexander, last winter break.

For now, he hangs up a few records above his bed and he decides it makes the room look a tiny bit less soulless. He feels accomplished realizing that he's spruced up his dorm and avoided Georgina Sparks for an entire week.

He'd call that a pretty good start to college.

* * *

Blair is late to her Intro to Film class on Monday and has to sit next to another fidgety guy, or perhaps that same one she keeps running into. He's clad with two copies of the Film 150 required textbook.  _Showoff_ , she thinks in irritation, she couldn't even afford  _one_. The last used copy had sold before she could hit checkout her shopping cart on Amazon yesterday.

"Open to page 32 of your books," Professor Donovan instructs before beginning his lecture. Luckily, it should cover most of whatever would be written in the book. So, Blair just flips to a blank page in her notebook filling in the date in the upper right corner and begins dutifully scrawling everything he says.

Just as her hand is beginning to cramp only a quarter of the way through the lecture, something bulky is slid across the armrest dividing and her seatmate. She glances down and looks up to find the showoff offering his extra book.

In a flash, his brown-eyed gaze is flicked back to the front of the lecture hall as the book teeters between them. He doesn't pay it any more attention like he really couldn't care if she takes it or not.

She's pretty sure this is the strangest interaction she's had on campus yet. She subtly glances over to see what page his book is opened to. Flipping the pages of the borrowed copy, Blair notices hers is brand new while his own is blotted with ink. Strange he wouldn't just let her use the worn-down version and keep the new one for himself. Though that would have been tacky, so she supposes she should give him credit for chivalry. And for saving her hand from imminent carpal tunnel.

After the lecture has concluded, Blair passes the book back to him without meeting his eye.

"I forgot mine, so thank you." The lie spills out easily in a smooth, crisp tone.

If she's lucky, by tomorrow there'll be a new listing for a used copy online she can order and have arrive by Wednesday's class. He'll never know that at the start of class she had willed her brain to go photographic and memorize each and every page of the book she couldn't afford.

"No problem." He replies, getting to his feet. His eyes flick up to her headband and she fights back the urge to touch the silky-satin band. She feels his gaze drop and they make eye contact for just a fraction of a section before something weird appears in his gaze. Disappointment, perhaps.

_Or more likely, judgment._

Then, he's gone and she's left with the awareness that once again she didn't meet the expectations of yet another fellow student. Just like with Georgina.

He could probably smell the scholarship on her. Her nearly-empty book bag with its fraying handles probably gave away her middle-class status.

Guys with enough money to duplicate all their textbooks weren't interested in girls who couldn't even afford one. She didn't need the memories of Jessica or Zoe or even Juliet's wild weekend antics compared with her own bookish Saturdays to remind her of just how undesirable she was.

That single dismissive look from him had done that for her.

As she walks out of class, she tries to be thankful that at least he hadn't called her out on her lie.

* * *

_**9th grade.** _

_**Albany, NY** _

_Their laughter is deafening, echoing off the empty hallways. Blair wants to jam the ends of her headbands into her ears so she doesn't have to hear it anymore._

_"Blair," Jessica heaves. "You didn't actually think Damien Dalgaard would ask you out, did you?"_

_Juliet chimes in. "Oh B, this is why we adore you. You're just priceless."_

_"Guys," Zoe tries to come to her defense. "I mean Blair wouldn't know any better would she? To those who have never been kissed, 'Bring your notebook' might very well be the signal."_

_Blair cuts in, defensively. "I've been kissed."_

_Her cheeks flare, giving away her lie._

_"By who?" Juliet challenges._

_"Nate." The lie is easy and automatic. It's hardly a lie if it'll be true soon, anyway, Blair rationalizes._

_"Oh yeah, 'Nate.'" Juliet uses air quotes as though Nate is her imaginary friend, which she probably thinks he is._

_"We're actually going to the football game together on Friday night," Blair says in sudden inspiration, instantly regretting it. She hates football and she doesn't even know if Nate is free then. But she'll make him be free, whatever it takes. She'll cry if she has to, that'll work._

_Juliet arches a well-groomed eyebrow. "Really? Jess and I were just talking about going to watch Zo cheer. Let's all sit together then. I can't wait to meet Nate." She uses that incredulous tone again._

_"Perfect." Blair shoves her quivering hands under the table, praying they don't give her anxiety away._

_On her way to fourth period, she rapid-fire texts Nate on her flip phone._

_Please, please come to the football game at my school Friday night. Please._

_Nate replies:_

_Football? Don't you hate sports?_

_Blair hovers by the classroom door, typing:_

_I do, but this is important. So you'll come?_

_Yeah, fine._

_Thanks! You're the best. Xoxoxo_

_She deletes the last 'xo' and presses send before going into class with a beaming smile._

* * *

Dan sits in the fourth row of the lecture hall watching as the girl with the headband studiously avoids him by taking a seat on the opposite side of the aisle. In the privacy of his mind, he's unimaginatively nicknamed her 'Headbands.' Not knowing much about her, he couldn't think of anything less trite.

On Monday, he thought he was doing her a favor by lending her his book, in fact, he had been about to tell her to keep it. It's not like he needed it. But then he finally looked away from that distracting headband she wore to properly observe her face and his words slipped out from under him. Looking in her eyes was like deja vu. He knew he had never met her yet for some reason, he recognized her. Or at least, he had recognized those somber brown eyes which though guarded, had stirred some long-forgotten memory in his brain.

It spooked him so instead of offering back the book, he fled. He didn't want to think about what those eyes meant or what that vague emotion reminded him of.

Today, when he arrived to class he had resolved to attempt to offer the book once more. He washed his brain of all inky traces of that feeling that had blotted his mind during their last interaction and now, he was ready to conduct himself in the generous manner Lily would love to brag about. Compassion was his most redeeming quality in her eyes.

But Headbands was making that impossible. It was mildly infuriating considering he was planning to give her the brand new book too, not the splotchy one. But now, with her sitting all the way across the room he can hardly bestow it upon her.

_Whatever_ , he thinks. At least this way, he can keep the book and sell it back online. Not that he needs the money but still, it's less of a hassle than trying to be generous to someone who clearly didn't want any help.

It's then that he thinks of Vanessa, picturing her at NYU, camcorder in hand. Another person who didn't "need his handouts." He tries desperately to remember the last good day they had together, before the break-up. It's not until the lecture has concluded and the room has emptied out that he remembers.

It was the day they rented rowboats in the park. As they flailed the oars about in their poor attempts at steering, they had discussed the many ways their relationship wouldn't change once they were at college with the naivety expected of a pair of eighteen-year-olds.

As Dan stalks off to his next class, he attempts to put the past behind him. Forget Vanessa, forget Headbands and all other girls who remind him of simpler times, of lofts in Brooklyn and trust fund-free futures. Out-of-focus memories that'll never become sharp even with fierce determination.

They all fade successfully into the recesses of his mind. Until the blonde girl in Friday's class asks if the seat next to him is taken and he says yes, without even thinking. Like his brain auto-piloted to saving the seat for Headbands.

So much for putting the past behind him.

A few minutes later Headbands walks up the carpeted steps, glances around the filled lecture hall and heaves an audible sigh as she realizes the only empty seat is the one next to him. She drops into the seat he's accidentally saved for her with her gaze averted, pointedly away from him. Somewhere across the room, the blonde is glaring at him, Dan can feel it.

But he ignores the daggers as he pushes the extra book over the threshold again. He watches Headbands, in case she looks up, but she doesn't. This time, she takes the offering without hesitation nor a single glance his way. It seems she's resigned to the fact that this is their new arrangement and she'll be accepting his extra book every week whether she wants to or not.

He tries not to smile as he sinks back into his seat.


	3. Alternative Forms of Communication

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all for staying with this story :) your comments have meant so much! 
> 
> As always, thank you to ASadAir for beta-ing this fic!

  
Falling into this routine - sitting next to Books, as she’s nicknamed him, three days a week, pretending she doesn’t notice him - is easier for Blair than it should be. Each Monday, Wednesday, and Friday they sit in the fourth row, he passes his book to her, she passes it back silently, and they part ways.

_Sort-of._

It turns out he’s also in her Thursday ENGLISH 467 journalism class. She’s simultaneously disappointed and comforted when she realizes it. Seeing him again on Thursdays sort of takes away the magic of film class, or it should. But at the same time, it makes her feel less alone in this school of strangers. She may not know his name or even why he lends her his book all the time, but she knows his face. Somehow, that’s enough.

Besides, on Thursdays they don’t sit together. That would just be weird.

He sits on the left side of the class and she takes the right - next to Nelly Yuki, her first official college friend. She instantly recognized Nelly as the insane note-taker from orientation but decides it could be useful being friends with a girl like that.

Plus, Nelly Yuki is here on scholarship too. So that’s something. Unlike her silent dynamic with Books, she and Nelly actually talk. Hence how she gained the information on Nelly’s student status - after class, the two of them have taken to studying together in the library. Even though their majors differ, they share a few of the same degree requirements.

As soon as Friday rolls around she’s back to sitting beside Books for one and a half hours while she uses his book. She’s contemplated writing a note to him there. But what would she say?

_My name is Blair. What’s yours?_

No, too lame, she realizes.

_Stop drumming your fingers on your book, it drives me insane._

She actually might write that right now as Books taps away incessantly at the hardback cover. As though reading her mind, he suddenly stops. She wonders if they’ve engaged in a new form of silent communication: telepathy.

Thinking hard, she wills him to listen: _If you can hear me, tap your fingers three times._

Nothing.

She feels foolish.

 _Maybe this is what college is like_ , Blair muses as she tries and fails to focus on Professor Donovan’s lecture.

Maybe it’s all wordless colloquy and reluctant friendships. She’ll never know his name and he’ll never know hers. There’s something poetic about that, she realizes.

Bored, she tries telepathy again as the lecture comes to a close a half hour later.

 _Look at me at the end of class,_ her mind says to him.

The professor wishes them a good weekend and she hands the book back, deciding not to avoid eye contact today. She wants to test her theory.

His hands close on the book and he looks up at her with a glint in his eyes. Her stomach gives a whirl, as though being churned, at the fact that he can read her mind indeed.

Despite the fact that it is a ridiculous and impossible notion, she floats off to her next class in a bubble victorious, fighting off the smile forming at the corner of her lips.

She’s made a second friend without even having to say a word.

* * *

 

 

 _Huh_ , Dan thinks as he watches Headbands skip out of the class. That time, when he looked at her there were no memories jostled loose. Just the strange sensation of an instant connection. A friendship, maybe, he thinks.

That night in his dorm, alone again because his roommate is still MIA, he writes in the textbook before he can think better of it. He guesses which page will be next used in the lecture but he’s pretty sure anywhere in Chapter Four is a safe bet.

**_I like your headbands._ **

Creepy, he cringes, reading his own words. Rapidly, he erases it, grateful he used pencil. Had he used ink, he would have had to start giving her the used textbook again which might seem a reproach.

He tries again.

**_Your headbands make you look like a princess._ **

He wonders if he should say queen instead but no, they make her look like a princess not a queen. There’s something too delicate about her features to be queenly.

Really, he shouldn’t say anything at all. The arrangement they have is working just fine. Three days a week they share a book and then they go their separate ways not to interact again until the next week.

He doesn’t need to know her name, where she’s from, or why she wears all those headbands.

The eraser hovers over the page but before he can decide whether or not to erase them, his phone starts ringing. He snaps the book shut, crossing the room to his phone to answer the call.

It’s Vanessa and they carry on the longest conversation they’ve had since the break-up.

All thoughts of Headbands have long dissipated from Dan’s mind by the time he hangs up and he forgets all about the words he scrawled on page eighty-four.

* * *

 

**_10th grade._ **

**_Albany, NY._ **

_A note is flicked onto Blair’s desk and she unfurls it with interest._

**I don’t know what to write. I’ve just always wanted to pass a note. It seems a very American thing to do.**

_Blair smiles down at the crumpled piece of paper in her hand before sending a grin toward Marcus beside her. As soon as the teacher looks away, she writes back:_

**Usually notes say things like:**

  * ****Meet me at my locker after class****


  * **OMG did you hear what happened at the party Saturday?**


  * **Did you study?**


  * **Can I copy your test answers?**



**And so on… So I hope that helps your Americanization.**

_It takes her a full five minutes to find an opportunity to pass it back to him. She wishes she would have written in there how about the main art in note passing is the matter in which you do it._

_Marcus begins writing back, not even bothering to wait until the teacher’s attention is diverted again. It doesn’t matter anyway, Mrs. Buckley adores Marcus._

**Alright. I’ll wait by your locker after class. Then, what?**

**PS I find it hard to believe you would ever copy off someone else’s answers.**

**PPS What did happen at the party on Saturday?**

_Blair suppresses a laugh when she reads it._

**I wouldn’t cheat. Those were just examples. You don’t really need to meet me at my locker after class.**

**PS I wasn’t invited to the party on Saturday so I have no idea.**

_Marcus shakes his head as he reads it. After class, he follows her out and says, “I feel like I’m a proper citizen now.”_

_“You really aren’t yet,” Blair tells him. “You tried to pay for your refill at the Oyster House last night. And you complained when your tea had ice in it. In fact, if I recall correctly, you called it an abomination.”_

_“Of course I did,” Marcus rallies. “Who puts ice in tea? Perhaps one or two cubes to cool it but a whole cup full? That was not tea. No.”_

_His cheeks reddened with new fire, Blair laughs. “I still have so much to teach you.”_

_“I guess so.” He smiles, softening. “Do you want to teach me more about being American this weekend maybe? At the movies? I’m guessing that’ll be a whole new experience.”_

_Blair feels her cheek flush, stupidly. It’s not like it’s a date._

_“A date.” Marcus says suddenly and Blair wonders if he heard her thoughts._

_“Oh.” She says in surprise, then corrects herself. “Yes, I mean. Yes. I would like that very much.”_

_“Brilliant.” He beams. “We’ll decide on the details via note-passing tomorrow in class. It seems the most practical way to discuss it.”_

_“The most fun way, you mean?”_

_“Exactly.” He grins at her. “Going to be late to my next class, see you in English tomorrow.”_

_“See you.” Blair watches him walk away in a fog of happiness._

_Her first date. And it’s with a cute British exchange student._

_Take that Juliet._

* * *

 

“Alright everyone,” Professor Donovan begins. “Let’s open our books to page eighty-two. We’re going to dive into Chapter Four of the text. I hope you all brought your books.”

Blair senses Books stiffening beside her and she glances over to see him staring with interest at the book he passed her at the beginning of class. She checks to see if he handed her the right one and finds that yes, he did. Shrugging off his fixed gaze, she flips to page eighty-two and begins to take notes on the instruction.

When she gets to page eighty-four, her mind is flashing back to the tenth grade. She didn’t even know note-passing was still a thing. She figured iPhones eliminated the need.

But yet, there it is. In scrawling, cramped handwriting. A note. To her.

_Your headbands make you look like a princess._

She’s about to prickle all over at the sarcasm until she makes out the faint traces of a different set of words just above it. Words that look like they said, _I like your headbands._

She wonders why he erased it.

Feeling herself smile, she glances over at where he’s staring at the page. He looks up in time to catch her smile and their eyes meet momentarily. Then, she diverts her attention back to the professor as she decides how to proceed.

Before class ends, she’s written back in her neatest cursive handwriting the following:

**_You just lowered your book’s resale condition from “Like New” to “Fair” or maybe even “Poor” if you keep up your habit of writing in it._ **

**_While I help to deteriorate its quality, I feel compelled to ask… Why two copies of the same book?_ **

Blair hands it back over to Books and hurries out of class before he can read her notes and answer them in person. She doesn’t want to tinge the magic of their silent friendship with actual conversation.

Blair feels a bit foolish on Tuesday as keeps staring at the clock, waiting for the hours to pass and tick into Wednesday. This sort of obsessive behavior is indicative of her level of loneliness.

She opens her email once she’s back in her dorm, eager for a distraction from her waiting game. At the top of her inbox is a message from Harold, her donor dad, and she smiles as she reads his well wishes.

Replying to him, she wishes she had a photo to send him along with the descriptions of her lackluster Ivy League life. But the only photographic evidence she has that she indeed is at Yale is the snap she took of her dorm room on her first day. She decides that’ll suffice and inserts it into the email.

Georgina walks into the dorm and says something about a friend coming to visit next week. Blair is only half listening because it’s finally late enough that she can go to sleep. So when she wakes up, she’ll only be three hours away from finding out if Books wrote back.

* * *

Dan had completely forgotten he even wrote in the textbook. He didn’t have alcohol to blame on that rash decision. Just impulse. So when he watches her read the words he has half a mind to snatch back the book and claim it was already there when he got it.

Like she’d believe that.

But then, she smiled and all his tension evaporated. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught her writing back before class ended.

He opens the book to page eighty-four eagerly the first chance he gets. He doesn’t even make it all the way to his dorm, instead he opens it right on the steps leading up to FREN 160.

Her reply pleases him, especially the way her handwriting spills out over the page in a vine-like pattern. Subconsciously, he always knew she’d be the sort of girl to write in cursive.

Dan spends a full forty-five minutes drafting replies during class. Ultimately, he decides on a shortened version of the actual story. She doesn’t need to know about his complicated familial relationship with his stepmother.

**_Accidentally bought two - one online used and one in the bookstore new. Boring story. You can keep the formerly new one, now in Used - Fair condition._ **

**_PS What’s your name?_ **

Time seems to stand still until he sees her again on Friday. Luckily, this time she doesn’t write back in the book. Instead she neatly tears a piece of paper out of her notebook and writes:

**_I think we should really stop defacing your textbook. I don’t need to keep it: I’ve mostly been using it since it *was* in better condition than the only used one I could find online. Now to answer your question… Do you need to know my name? You haven’t needed it so far. Besides you’ve probably already decided on what my name most likely is. Stick with that._ **

He shakes his head as he reads her words. Writing back:

**_I think your name is something regal like Elizabeth or Victoria. Or something literary like Anais._ **

At the last minute, he adds:

**_What do you think my name is then?_ **

It’s clear he’s guessed wrong as he watches Blair read his reply.

  
**_No, all good guesses but wrong._ ** **I think your name is something preppy like Parker. Or something more straightforward like Dylan. Oh! Or a name that you’ve hated forever but pretend to embrace like Randolph.**

A wash of goosebumps rise on Dan’s skin as he reads over her guesses. She guessed his middle name, eerie. He can’t decide whether or not to tell her that, so he sits on it for a while, tuning back into the lecture.

He leaves it long enough that she writes another note, eyes full of triumph as she passes it to him:

**_I guessed it, didn’t I?_ **

He writes back:

**_You sort-of did. I guess this is why we never talk. We don’t need words._ **

Dan wishes he hadn’t written that last part, it sounds like some romantic declaration. But these seats are too close for him to erase it without her knowing, she’s certainly seen it already. So he leaves it be. She doesn’t acknowledge the awkwardness, instead jumping to the point.

**_Explain. How did I “sort-of” guess it?_ **

Letting out a breath, he finally tells her:

**_My middle name is Randolph. And I have always hated it, more than you could know. Now that you know at least one-third of my name, you owe me._ **

She writes back:

**_Cornelia._ **

_Cornelia_ . The name bounces around his mind as he tries to decide if that’s her first or middle name. He thinks it’s the latter because it doesn’t quite fit her the way he expected. It just sounds like one missing piece of the puzzle.

Scribbling at last, he passes it back:

**_Call it even then._ **

When class concludes, she hands the book back ignoring his offer from earlier. Then, he sees that on top of the book is the sheet of notebook paper with all their notes from today. At the bottom is a new one:

**_In case you need to leave me any more messages to read on Monday. Have a good weekend._ **

**_-B._ **

The initial is a surprise that gives him an irrational spark of hope.

For the rest of the day, he tries to guess what that B might stand for.

Beatrice, Bree, Briar, nothing he comes up with sounds quite right. So he starts trying out names paired with Cornelia, like trying to fit the puzzle pieces together.

It’s not until ten at night that he realizes it’s odd to even be so intensely deliberating it. She’s certainly not losing sleep over the possibilities of his name. So it doesn’t matter, it’s irrelevant.

All he knows is this:

She’s Headbands - the girl that sits next to him three days a week, wears a dizzying amount of hair accessories, and uses his book, and that’s all he really needs to know.


	4. Dorm Life, Interrupted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the amazing ASadAir for beta'ing this chapter! Hope you all are enjoying the story and the direction it's headed!

The Friday after the note exchange with "Books" Randolph Doe, they go to Cine 4 for a viewing of the latest arthouse drama that all the other media students are debating. Afterwards, Blair is bursting with thoughts, having kept a running list of discussion points in her head throughout the film. To her disappointment, it turns out that Nelly is the quiet contemplative type, so they are reduced to a companionable silence the whole drive home until Nelly starts spiraling about the assignment she's only three-quarters of the way through that's due on Tuesday.

Blair quickly loses interest and finds her mind wandering back to Intro to Film. Lately, it feels like she's been leaving her brain behind each time she leaves the class because her attention never quite departs that room. Every other weeknight, she replays her latest interaction with Books. Tonight, she has many to press rewind on.

She's still trying to decide whether giving Books her initial was a massive mistake or not. She's plagued by the idea that her name is still tinged with the desperation of a lonely fifteen-year old. Outsider-status is a hard thing to shake, she would know, she can't even rid her identity of it.

She pauses by the dorm, key in hand, when she hears a ripple of girlish laughter emanating from her dorm room.

Georgina is never home on a Friday night, which means she brought the party to their dorm. Already pricking with displeasure, Blair pushes open the door to see what sort of pandemonium she will discover.

Instead of finding dozens of sweaty frat guys and sorority girls with only half their clothing on, it's just Georgina and a blonde girl. The blonde is sitting on Blair's bed, long, tanned legs outstretched over the neatly made duvet. Georgina meanwhile is telling some raucous story until she notices Blair at the door.

"Oh," She doesn't bother to hide her disappointment. "Hi, Blair."

"Hi," Blair says skeptically, glancing at her hijacked bed. She waits for the blonde to introduce herself, something is familiar about her. Blair's eyes catch on the framed photo on the dresser and sees a different version of the same girl- still tanned, still smiling, but younger. She tries to think of her name.

Georgina finds it for her. "This is Serena. My best friend. We were just catching up so..."

She trails off and Blair is left standing at the entrance wondering if her roommate is kicking her out of her own dorm room. Georgina nor Serena make a move to make her feel welcome – Serena stays put on Blair's bed, texting, while Georgina just stares back expectantly.

"Right," Blair says at last, feeling resigned. "I have some studying to catch up on in the library. I just came by to grab a few books."

She retrieves a few texts, a notebook, and then turns to leave. Neither of them says anything- they just resume their giggling as soon as the door has shut.

* * *

**12th grade.**

**Albany, NY.**

_Blair slips out of her graduation cap and gown, draping it over her desk chair. "It's all finally over."_

" _Not yet," Nate says. "You still have your party downstairs waiting for you."_

_"I know," Blair sighs. "Why did my mother insist on throwing me the graduation party? I didn't even want one. Why would I want a whole night reflecting on the worst four years of my life?"_

_"Blair," Nate is placating. "Come on, it wasn't all bad."_

" _It wouldn't have been all bad if you were there." Blair admits, sinking onto the bed. "I wish you hadn't transferred out freshman year. It could have all been so different, Nate."_

_This is a thought Blair has had many times and voiced only a few. She and Nate had met in the sixth grade, both children of parents who should have had greater lives than the ones they ended up with. Her mother's poorly timed designer deal that fell through seemed milder than Nate's own family dramas. Nate's father, Howard, went to jail for fraud and embezzlement and was serving a five-year sentence._

_Nate's mother's side of the family had been long estranged from their daughter, after she married the shady Howard Archibald, but as soon as they heard their grandson was attending public high school they swooped in and had him transferred to the nearest private academy, effectively stranding Blair in that hell hole of a high school._

_"I know," He sits down beside her. "But you wouldn't have liked my school anyway. The uniforms were knee-length skirts for the girls with polo shirts. Polos, Blair, I know you wouldn't have fainted at the sight of your own reflection."_

_Smiling, Blair feels a ripple of pleasure at the clear sign that Nate knows her better than anyone. It's moments like these she wishes he could see it too – how well they fit together, how they belong together._

_"And what about Marcus?" Nate asks. "You had a good junior year when he was here."_

_"That's true." Blair agrees. She almost forgot about Marcus – the cute, British foreign exchange student she had dated for six months. Nate makes her forget him. Nate makes her forget everyone._

" _So you had two bad years there. Just two." Nate concludes. "And now, we are going to go celebrate the fact that you never have to see Juliet, Jessica, or Zoe again."_

_It's hard not to grin at that. Blair starts to stand but Nate pulls her back down. "Wait, one last thing to cheer you up. Let me go get my gift for you."_

_Blair watches him leave her bedroom and return a minute later with a neatly wrapped box. He hands it to her, smiling. Blair unwraps it trying not to rip the paper, her heart fluttering in her chest._

_Inside is a stuffed bulldog wearing a blue sweater with a giant Y on it – the Yale mascot. Blair smiles down at it before clutching it to her chest. "Thanks, Nate. I love it."_

_"Look at his collar," Nate instructs._

_Blair does so and discovers two tickets slipped under the brown leather collar. Train tickets to New York City. "What's this?"_

_"I thought you and I could take the train down and spend the whole day in the city doing all the things we always wanted. We can go to one of the museums you like, then go to the park, maybe go to the top of the Empire State Building. It's your gift so you choose where and when."_

_Happy tears threaten to spill out of Blair's eyes as she throws her arms around him. "Thank you, this is the best gift."_

" _I'm glad you like it." Nate laughs. "I was worried you'd say a stuffed animal would be lame and a whole day with me would be lamer."_

" _I would never say that." Blair says into his ear. "You're my best friend."_

_She wants to say more but she doesn't. Instead she just wipes her eyes and sets the bulldog down on the bed. As they drift down the hall to the party, her head is filled with a dizzying daydream of her and Nate in New York City._

* * *

Dan wakes up to a text from Georgina on Saturday morning. He honestly forgot about her in his studious evasion. It's disappointing that she hasn't forgotten him too. That's what he had been hoping for, at least until she dropped out, which he figured would happen soon enough.

_Serena's here. Come to Vanderbilt at four. We'll be waiting. BTW I know you've been avoiding me._

Perhaps this is the start of Georgina's deferral, Dan thinks after reading the text. Serena has swooped in undoubtedly with glamorous stories of her travels, Georgina will inevitably become jealous, and head straight to Admissions to defer for a year. Actually, thinking of it, he's sort of surprised Serena even figured out how to get here own her own. The only school she had been accepted to was Brown after a large donation was gifted by Lily – only for Serena to promptly announced she wouldn't be attending.

Lily had been irate, Rufus had been called in to persuade Serena, Dan too. Everyone tried and failed to get his stepsister to attend. Last he heard, she had been in Santorini with Carter Baizen. He's sure Lily loved the photos of them hitting the tabloids.

He wonders if he should tell his father and Lily that Serena is back on the East Coast. He supposes he'll see how today goes first – make sure she's not fit for another stint at the Ostroff Center. If she is, then he'll tell them. If she seems happy and harmless, he won't. It's a good plan.

Perhaps he'll help nudge Georgina away while he's at it. He really is sick of looking over his shoulder every time he crosses Old Campus for fear of running into her. Dan replies:

_I'll be there. Send me your room #._

At three-fifty-five, Dan heads over to the Vanderbilt Hall. He had to cancel on plans with friends from his own residence hall for this but it'll be worth it, not to have to worry about what crazy antics Georgina is up to on campus and how they might affect him.

He walks slowly down the hallway- coming in from the west entrance, searching for the dorm number Georgina sent. As he rounds a corner, he thinks he hears Georgina's distinctive cackle. He needs a moment before entering; she's the sort of person you have to prepare for.

So he draws in a sharp breath, then another, and another.

* * *

Blair is coming back from another study session with Nelly at the library. She takes the east entrance, eager to get into the building and be reprieved of the gusty winds outside. As she paces down the hall, faint voices and laughter can be heard: the same sounds she heard last night before she was so unceremoniously kicked out of her own dorm room.

She groans, stalling before rounding the corner as she tries to think of how to proceed. She can't just let this Serena girl steal her bed and her room. This is college. She thinks back to the words she had written in the first page of her notebook on the train ride to campus.

You can't make people love you, but you can make them fear you.

Chin held high, she rounds the corner and stops in her tracks as she hears her name.

"Shouldn't Dan be here by now? At least  _Blair_ isn't here."

It's Georgina speaking and she makes Blair's name sound like something offensive.

"Oh I know, she totally is…." Georgina continues. "I mean really, a sushi party? Blair is  _so_ tragic. You met her, you should understand by now…. On scholarship too, if that doesn't say it all…. Those headbands… Total travesty… Right?"

Giggles, more giggles.

"Total gold digger, I swear. Why else would she keep that framed photo of him on her dresser? I Googled him… Old money… Dartmouth."

The words start to go fuzzy as she listens in abject horror.

"Blair is just so…"

She doesn't need to hear anymore. She blinks away the pain and heads straight for the nearest exit. Out of this building, out of this terrible revival of the same pain she endured for four years.

Through watery eyes, she marches down the hallway only pausing once she realizes there's something in her way.  _Someone_ in her way.

The worst someone she could think of to see at this moment. He's been there the whole time. Listening to the whole thing – Georgina's humiliating version of the Blair Waldorf Story.

And now, he's looking at her with pitying eyes like he suddenly sees her for who she is – not the girl he passes notes to in Intro to Film but instead, Blair, the poor girl who can't even afford to buy her own textbook.

And he... he's  _Dan_. She finally knows his name now.

But Blair can't play anymore wordless games with him anymore. Not after that. She fixes her gaze on the bright red exit sign, letting the light drown out the sight of him. She brushes past him– pretending he was never there and that neither was she.

* * *

Dan stands there, frozen, as Headbands –  _no_ , Blair, rushes past him. B, Blair. Blair Cornelia. It slides into place, the right fit at least. Except, it was all at the wrong moment.

Jumping to action, Dan pushes open the ajar door startling both Georgina and Serena.

"Fuck, Georgina, do you always have to be such a bitch?" His tone is accusatory and bitter.

"Woah," Serena's eyes go wide. "Is it just me or is Dan kind of an asshole now, Georgie?"

"Yeah seriously," Georgina agrees, eyes spewing icy daggers at him. "What the fuck is up with you?"

"Your roommate, Blair, and I were just treated to your lovely dissemination of the destruction of her character." Dan says, glaring back at her. "Shut the door next time and try to be discreet."

"Oh," Georgina shrugs. "She heard that? Well, I sort of did her a favor, didn't I? She could use a little image check. I only spoke the truth."

"You're soulless." Dan says harshly before turning to Serena. "Does your mom know you're here? Or does she still think you're in Santorini?"

"Goody, it's my turn to be scolded by Dan." Serena remarks sarcastically. "What does it matter if she knows or not?"

"Because she has the Brown Admissions office calling her every month to see if you still plan to attend next semester. She needs to give them an answer." Dan shoves a hand through his hair, angrily. "Look, tell her or I will."

He pauses, trying to make his threat sink in. Then with finality, he says. "I'm leaving now."

Dan stomps out of the dorm room and heads the way he saw Blair go. He doesn't know where he'll find her, but he has to try.

* * *

Blair feels the sting of the harsh wind as she hurries across campus. She doesn't even know where she's going. If she had friends, proper friends not just a study buddy which is basically what Nelly is, she could hide out in their dorm room. But she doesn't even have that.

She remembers reading up on what life on campus would be like. Dozens of articles saying Yale's residential halls will make you feel at home, like you've instantly found a new family. She doesn't feel like that at all.

Glancing at her watch, she sees it's only a little after four. Even still, a train ride home would take at least five hours. It would be nine by the time she got home and then she'd have to explain to her mother why she's unexpectedly come home to visit.

Resigned to the fact that finding such solace is simply not possible, she heads to Sterling to seek solace in one of the sixteen floors of books. There has to be one aisle where she can sink down and lose herself in a daydream somewhere very far away from here.

From somewhere beyond, she thinks she hears her name being called. But she doesn't turn back, she just keeps on ahead chanting her mantra in her head.

_You can't make people love you, but you can make them fear you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TBC... 
> 
> Thank you for reading :)


	5. Poetry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: So happy you all are liking this story so far, it makes me truly glad :) Thanks so much to ASadAir for sprinkling this chapter with the magic it needed!

It's Monday and Blair honestly can't fathom sitting next to Dan and pretending he didn't watch her nearly breakdown in the hallway just two days ago. So she gets to class early enough that the back row will still be empty. But apparently not early enough.

Dan is sitting there in their spot, eyes trained on her. She flicks her gaze away and continues up the steps, not breaking her hard stare until she sinks down into a sit next to a pretty girl with the shiniest hair Blair has ever seen. She'd normally avoid someone so obviously better than her but she doesn't have much of a choice. This girl is her armory from the person who knows just how vulnerable she is.

A few other girls fill the row and soon enough, Blair feels safe again. Safe from those inquisitive eyes that told her they knew her.

"Hey," The girl next to her says as they wait for class to start. "I'm Raina."

Blair blinks momentarily, stunned at this friendly gesture. This is what she thought would happen all along at Yale, a simple introduction and then blossoming friendship. Why is it happening now that she's resolved to be feared, not loved?

"I'm Blair," She says tentatively.

"This is Epperly," Raina points to the blonde next to her who waves at Blair.

"Nice to meet you both." Blair replies politely, flipping open to a blank page of her notebook. She's relieved the professor begins his lecture a moment later, saving her from more conversation which she feels incapable of at the moment.

After the lecture has concluded, Raina starts talking to her again. "So can I ask? Why'd you sit back here with us instead of with your boyfriend?"

"What?" Blair feels her cheeks heat and instinctively looks down to where Dan is putting away his books - both copies, she notes, and prays he couldn't hear Raina's question. "Him? He's not my boyfriend. He's not even my friend."

She gives an awkward laugh.

"Oh," Raina arches an eyebrow, interested. "We just assumed, since you two always sit next to each other and pass notes. The lectures get boring and we're always looking for entertainment." Raina adds at Blair's confused expression.

"We don't pass notes." Blair is mortified. This sounds so high school. She glances down to where Dan had been packing up his belongings and sees he's already descending the stairs. She ignores the glance he gives her before he exits the class.

"Are you sure about that?" Epperly asks, catching the look Dan just shot her. "Did you guys get into a fight or something? He kept looking back at you during class."

Blair pushes her hair behind her ears, feeling naked without her headband. She follows the girls down the steps. "Something like that." She says vaguely. "I hope you didn't mind that I took your row today."

"No," Raina says quickly. "We were relieved actually. This total creep kept sitting there and if he asked for Epperly's number one more time I probably would have punched him. So I guess you kind of saved me from an assault charge."

They make it out of the classroom and Blair catches Dan waiting for her out of the corner of her eye. She doesn't look at him and just follows the girls, unsure of where they are headed but certain she can't stop.

Who knows what Dan wants to say to her. He'll probably tell her she needs to start bringing her own book because he can't be seen with such a social pariah.

"Hey," Raina says suddenly. "What are you doing tonight?"

Blair is pulled from her worst imaginations. She wants to say - it's a Monday, probably studying and going to bed early, but that would be tragic. "I don't know."

"Come to our dorm! Honestly, you and that guy - the one you're avoiding, are kind of like an enigma to us. We need to hear the full story. Then, we were going to watch Amelie on the communal TV with a few of the other girls."

It's like it's all suddenly happening, everything Blair dreamed of. All the minutiae of the quintessential college experience, within her reach. But thanks to Georgina's little spiel on Saturday, Blair is in disbelief and a part of her wonders if this is all an elaborate hoax to embarrass the lowly scholarship student.

She tries to put her anxieties aside as she nods. "Sure. What building are you guys in?"

"We're in Durfee. C22." Epperly says, "Come at seven."

"Okay," Blair smiles. "I'm heading to Latin now but I'll see you both tonight."

Suddenly, quite impossibly, Blair has two new friends. Forget the fact that she may have just lost one, it's still a huge step toward the collegiate life she always wanted.

* * *

As Dan watches Blair walk away, flanked by two statuesque freshman girls, he realizes he was idiotic for even waiting around for her. What was he even going to say to her?

_I'm sorry my stepsister's best friend is such a bitch._

_Why didn't you sit next to me?_

_Class sucked without you._

They were all pathetic and quite possibly, tragic - as Georgina would say. He and Blair didn't even know each other's names up until this weekend. Even then, that was an accident. They had only surmised them rather than willingly given them to each other.

At least, he assumed Blair knew his name by now. Maybe not, though.

Either way, clearly whatever peculiar, tentative friendship they had formed had now concluded.

He really shouldn't care. Yet, a fog of disquiet follows him all day. He finally recognizes what it is once he's back in the quiet of his dorm room.

It's that same recognition he felt the first time he looked into her eyes.

He had been her, once upon a time. That first day at St. Judes, Chuck Bass informing everyone that Dan Humphrey didn't belong. That he was actually just some kid from Brooklyn that would never be one of them because Lily wasn't his actual mother. She was just the link binding him to the Upper East Side. Without the van der Woodsens, "he'd be nothing." Or at least, that's what Chuck had said.

Unaware of what her financial situation was really like, or where she was even from, all Dan knows is this:

Blair is an outsider, just like he had once been.

The plain truth of it was written in those doe-like eyes. When he looked at her, that day in the hallway outside her dorm, she had looked so impossibly sad. Seeing that expression had elicited a pain in his own chest.

That's why he had gone off the rails and yelled at not only Georgina but Serena too. He didn't even know if she was still on campus or if she had jetted off to get another passport stamp. Truthfully, he couldn't care. All he cared about was making Blair feel like she belonged.

* * *

Blair still feels wary of this supposed girls night at Raina and Epperly's dorm. It feels too good to be true. If she had followed her mantra, she would have told them a movie night and gossiping about boys sounded pathetic. But that would have been a lie.

So she shows up a few minutes after seven, trying not to look overeager. Raina opens the door in yoga clothes with a wide smile. "You came!"

Her happiness seems genuine so Blair lets herself be pulled in and introduced to their other two roommates - Fran and Rebecca. While Rebecca is perky with a blunt cut lob, Fran is diminutive and has a curtain of dark hair. Her skin is practically translucent, Blair notes, as she settles into one of the couches.

"So," Epperly says to Blair. "Tell us all about what is up with you and the hot hipster in Intro to Film."

"Hot?" Blair echoes, incredulously. "I wouldn't say he's hot."

"Oh come on," Raina chimes in. "He is and you know it."

Blair ignores their comments on Dan's appearance and tells them all about their odd book-sharing arrangement. She even includes the part about Saturday because she realizes it's pretty crucial to her decision to sit with them, rather than him, today.

They all look at her with sympathetic eyes when she summarizes Georgina's bitchy rant about her. Fran pipes up, "You should put in for a transfer."

Rebecca nods enthusiastically. "I think a girl in the next dorm over just dropped out. You can probably have her bed! I'll talk to Forest, she was her roommate."

"Thanks," Blair says weakly. "So as you can all see, Dan and I really aren't friends. And certainly, most definitely, not boyfriend and girlfriend." She emphasizes a little too much. "Besides, honestly, I've I've done the whole best-friend-maybe-more slash will-we-or-won't-we-thing. I am not interested in a reprisal of it or in Dan, for that matter."

"Totally get that." Rebecca says. "My ex and I were friends first and we sort of are friends again except for the fact that we can't even have a normal conversation without it turning into some fight about something that happened when we were dating."

Raina is chewing decisively on her lips, as though weighing something. "Then, why not still sit next to him? Not that we don't love having you in our row." She quickly adds. "But it just seems needlessly cruel to shun him because he knows your bitchy roommate. I think it's sort of sweet how he always lent his extra book to you. I would call it the perfect meet-cute, but I know you 'aren't interested in him'."

Blair prickles slightly at the air quotes and tries to consider what Raina said. "It's like… He's seen me at my worst. I can't just sit next to him now and carry on like he didn't witness my complete degradation by my roommate."

"I do see what Raina's saying though." Epperly nods thoughtfully. "Blair, think about it. You've already learned how shitty people can be thanks to Georgina. So if you find a good one, like Dan, do you really want to let him go because of an embarrassing moment? And speaking of that, don't let Georgina belittle you. You need to tell her to fuck off. Put back up the Cary Grant photo – which by the way, if you can make me a copy that would be great, and next time Serena is on your bed shove her off. She's not even a student here."

All the girls bob their heads in accordance and Blair has no choice but to agree with Epperly. "Fine, but this means you're going to be stuck next to the creep on Wednesday's class."

"It'll be worth it." Epperly says with a smile. "Now, let's go watch the movie."

* * *

A miracle occurs on Wednesday. Blair is sitting in their pair of seats when Dan gets to class. Her shiny brown hair looks bare without it's headband but still, it's her. Leather bound notebook and all. When he slides past her to take his seat beside her, she doesn't bristle or even shift away. She just remains situated.

Dan hands her the book - he had brought it with the intention of delivering it to her in the back row and writing a note on the same sheet of paper from last Friday. It's also the one he had hung onto and read whenever he was bored the past few days. On it he writes:

_**Blair Cornelia _?** _

She takes the paper from him with slight hesitation and he wonders if he's misstepped. Maybe they are supposed to communicate in the spoken word now like normal students.

Her lips curl the slightest bit as she fills in the blank.

Blair Cornelia Waldorf.

_**Dan Randolph _?** _

A bubble of relief fills him as he writes back:

_**Daniel Randolph Humphrey** _

She snickers the slightest bit and he shoots her a,  _really_  look.

_**Sorry.** _

He shakes his head.

_**I know, it's not a very good name.** _

Her reply is an unconvincing attempt at reassurance:

_**It is. It's fine.** _

_**Waldorf is a good name.** _

_**Thanks, it's my donor dad's last name. My mom thought it sounded more dignified than her own.** _

_**Donor dad?** _

_**My mom conceived me using a fertility clinic. Harold Waldorf was the donor.** _

Dan thinks about this and then scribbles down a question:

_**Have you seen photos of him?** _

_**I've met him. We talk pretty frequently. He's sort of my dad, but not really. Just in all the good ways.** _

_**Tell me something about you. All I know about you is that you have questionable taste in friends (i.e. Georgina Sparks) and that you apparently over quantify the number of books you need for you classes.** _

This summary of him makes him happy. He tries to think of what to tell her about himself while trying not to seem surprised at her mention of Georgina. He wasn't sure if they were supposed to pretend  _the incident_ hadn't happened.

Deciding on telling her something that will make her see that they're more alike than she realizes, he writes:

_**I was born in Brooklyn to Rufus Humphrey, former frontman of Lincoln Hawk- a one-hit wonder band of the 90s. He married my stepmom, Lily van der Woodsen, when I was five and we had to move to the Upper East Side where I was forced to befriend a whole onslaught of terrible characters including Georgina Sparks just to survive. I hadn't made one friend I actually liked until I met you.** _

He glances at Blair as she reads the short story of his life to see if perhaps the last line is too much. But she seems pleased and writes back:

_**Hence, me calling your choice in friends questionable but not terrible. You did befriend me after all.** _

_**We should talk, one of these days. Like really talk. I'm starting to think perhaps you are mute? If so, I can swap my French class for ASL. (Totally serious.)** _

_**Of course you take French. Prerequisite for being an Upper East Sider.** _

Dan notes that she dodged his suggestion that they have an actual conversation and tries not to take it personally.

_**Exactly. What language do you take?** _

_**Latin.** _

_**Interesting choice….** _

_**It's underrated. Plus, it's the root of all words. I think it's more useful than you might realize.** _

_**Well, maybe one of these days you'll say something to me in Latin and I'll respond in French and neither of us will have any idea of what the other has said.** _

_**Sounds about right.** _

She seems pensive for a moment before taking the paper back from him and adding:

_**I think there's something poetic about it.** _

_**About what?** _

_**This. The notes. The not-speaking. Don't you?** _

She's looking at him now with hopeful eyes so he nods.

_**That's true. But poems always end too soon.** _

Blair underlines that as soon as he passes it to her. Dan watches as she writes something underneath it and then passes it back.

_**See? Poetic.** _

After he reads it, he sees her pull out the older sheet of notes, the very first. She circles something then passes it back. He discovers that she circled his words:

_**We don't need words.** _

Something about this makes his chest tighten. He hides it with a conciliatory reply:

_**Fine, I concede.** _

Blair smiles a triumphant grin and Dan watches as she finally tunes into the lecture. Except it ends a few minutes later and both of them are left without a clue as to what Professor Donovan went over today.

Dan can't quite find it in him to even mind it.

* * *

"Somebody is strangely very smiley today." Raina notes as she catches up to Blair after class. "I'm going to have to refer you to mother's surgeon to get those laugh lines filled."

Epperly pipes up, "You are starring in a romantic comedy, Blair, and you don't even know it."

"No," Raina says with a shake of her head. "She's obviously starring in a silent film. She's Greta Garbo and he's Rudolph Valentino."

"I think I'll do my Senior Project on a retelling of your meet-cute. I'll probably win at the film festival." Epperly blithely announces.

"Um," Raina sounds irritated. "It was my idea. If anyone is making that movie, it's going to be me."

Blair cuts in at last. "No one is going to be making any movies. At least, not about me nor Dan. There's nothing romantic about us."

"Sure," Epperly drawls. "There's nothing romantic about you two spending ninety minutes with stupid grins on your faces as you write love letters back and forth."

"Not love letters," Blair says through her teeth then waves them off. "You guys are making me late to Latin."

"Amor vincit omnia!" Epperly announces that  _love conquers all_  way too loudly. Blair is suddenly quite thankful Dan always heads the opposite way after class. And that he doesn't know Latin.

"Supprime tuum stultiloquium!" Blair calls back teasingly, hoping that will shut Epperly up.

But if she had been honest with them, she would have had to admit it did feel a bit cinematic. As someone who had always dreamed of bigger things for herself, she couldn't help but feel that things might finally be falling into place.


	6. Breaking Social Rules

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to ASadAir for being the best beta/editor and thank you to you all for being patient with this story :)

Thanks to a few lessons in assertion from Raina and Epperly, Blair marches into her dorm on Thursday afternoon on a mission. Just as she predicted, Serena is lounging on Blair's bed scrolling through her phone and listening to music. Of course, it's some dreadful autotuned "artist" Blair refuses to learn the name of.

Drawing in a deep breath, Blair squares her shoulders. "Serena."

Blue eyes blink at her in surprise as though Blair is the one invading her space. "Oh. Hey."

"Listen," Blair hovers over Serena in what she hopes is an intimidating stance. "If you plan on sticking around, I suggest you visit Admissions. You'll need to see about finding a permanent housing solution because you can't sleep here anymore. If I find you on my bed again, I'll call the RA or will drag you out of here myself. This is my dorm room. You're welcome to stop by and visit Georgina when she's here and it's not some ungodly hour but stick to her side of the room. Now, up up!"

She drags Serena up by her golden, lithe arm. Her dumbstruck face suggests no one has ever kicked her out of anywhere before. Well, Blair thinks, there's a first time for everything.

"I'll tell Georgina you stopped by!" Blair leads Serena out of the dorm and locks the door behind her.

Smoothing out her wrinkled duvet, she feels a self-satisfied smile cross her face. She texts Raina and Epperly in the group chain they have going:

_Mission accomplished. We're celebrating tonight._

Her friends reply with a flurry of emojis- a fist pump, confetti, champagne, and a million other little icons that represent Blair's mood. Next, she texts Nelly eager not to morph into Juliet and be the queen of exclusion:

_Raina and Epperly are having a few of us over to their dorm tonight. Come by?_

Nelly texts back in an instant with a response in the affirmative and Blair is glad she thought to invite her. She had been feeling a little guilty saving all her fun times for Raina and the girls, setting aside Nelly just for study sessions.

Blair honestly couldn't have ever imagined herself being the type of girl to go to a party on a Thursday night but it turns out, even an Ivy Leaguer can let loose. She throws on the latest of her mother's designs- a flirty dress in a dusty rose color that makes her skin look more luminous than it actually is. Normally, she would have put heels on with it and maybe a gold-leafed headband but Raina has been trying to engrain "less is more" in Blair's brain. So instead, she simply slips a bangle on her wrist and wears her nicest pair of flat sandals.

Arriving to her friends' dorm, she finds it's hardly set-up for a get-together with "just a few friends." There's a Costco-sized pack of SOLO cups set out along with a table for beer pong. Blair didn't even know parties were allowed in the dorms, at least none ever happened in her dorm. But then again, she wouldn't know, never having been invited.

"B!" Raina surveys her. "See! Beautiful! You don't need headbands to sparkle. E, come look at how cute Blair looks."

Blair lets them praise her and even says yes to the shot of horribly cheap vodka they have on-hand, only because they are toasting to eternal friendship. She's glad she does it because sober-Blair would start questioning her presence at this sort of shindig on a school night and would start to think up excuses to leave, especially as the room fills quickly with at least thirty other students and still no Nelly Yuki in sight.

She can just picture Nelly walking up, getting one tiny glimpse into the raucous dorm, and then running in the opposite direction with one hand poised on her horn-rimmed glasses so they didn't fly off in her hurry.

"Okay another shot," Epperly proffers more vodka. "We need to drink to you!"

The other girls are with her – Raina, Fran, and Forest, all beaming huge grins and holding up their own shots. Blair's already fuzzy but she feels no choice but to say yes to her new, picturesque friends. Maybe her life is a movie, she thinks as she raises the shot.

"To you!" They all shout. "To the incredible, amazing Blair!"

Blair would blush but she's pretty sure the stuffy room has already caused her cheeks to permanently fill with color. So instead, she lets the cool alcohol burn her mouth out as she finishes the shot.

"Blair," She hears her name again and turns, expecting to see... Well, she's not quite sure who she expects to see but certainly not Dan.

He belongs in Intro to Film and Journalism, not in her friends' overcrowded dorm room. In all her imagination of what it might be like when they finally held a real, intimate conversation, she never pictured it in such a disorderly environment. She feels far too dazed for this but she meets his eye as he approaches the high top table they're all gathered around.

"Hi." She says a little uncertainty, distracted by Raina and Epperly's eager, surreptitiously exchanged glances behind Dan. They keep nudging one another like they're watching something epic unfold.

Of course. They probably invited him.

Blair would certainly be glaring at them right now and rescinding her promise of eternal friendship if not for Dan being directly in her line of sight.

She asks, "What are you doing here?" as if she doesn't already know.

"I know Fran, she's in my Literature to Film class." Dan answers, making Blair wonder if this was Fran's doing, not Epperly's. But one look at them over his shoulder confirms it was definitely that duo. She rues the day she told them all about her and Dan.

Blair nods.

"I'm breaking our rule, aren't I?" Dan asks. "When I saw you, a minute ago, I actually checked my pockets for a sheet of paper I could pass you. I found one but I didn't have a pen. So communicating the old-fashioned way seemed de rigueur."

"You do realize I am well-versed in the art of conversation and don't require pen and paper to conduct a discussion, don't you?" Blair asks sardonically.

"I mean, I had to assume." Dan replies. "You don't exactly seem friendless."

His comment is sarcastic but it makes her realize he doesn't know the half of it. He continues on though. "So what's the occasion? Your friends seem to be celebrating you."

"Oh," Blair feels a bit sheepish. She can't remember if he said he was close to his stepsister or not. "Honestly, I kicked your stepsister out of my dorm. Sorry."

Dan doesn't look the slightest bit disappointed and instead blanches slightly. "Serena has been here, all this time?"

"Yes." Blair replies, wishing she had a drink to busy herself with. She glances down at one of the empty SOLO cups before continuing. "She sort of hijacked my bed there for a while."

"I'm glad you ousted her then." He shakes his head. "Do you happen to know where she went? I should track her down. If she's spending all her time at a college it should really be her own."

Blair can't help her reply. "Serena got in somewhere?"

"Brown." Dan hesitates. "Her mother contributed to the construction of a new music hall. Although, I'm sure it was unrelated."

Smiling at his dry tone, Blair asks, "I am going to get a drink. Something to wash away that shitty vodka shot you saw me doing. This way?"

After she plucks two fresh cups from the table, he follows her into the communal kitchenette where she knows the girls stash their better liquor and all the non-alcoholic beverages.

"You barely poured anything in there." Dan notes as she puts double the amount of vodka in his cup.

Blair nods. "I've already had two shots and am seizing the opportunity to sober up. We have class tomorrow, remember? I need to keep my wordbank sharp so I can properly communicate to you in our customary fashion. Any more than this and I might be too hungover to quip."

"Ah," Dan's tone turns sage.

Blair tops off their cups with an organic lemonade she finds in the fridge that undoubtedly belongs to Fran, whose Lilliputian frame runs on pesticide-free substances. Blair idly wonders if the lack of pesticides is what makes her skin so translucent; maybe it's everyone else that has the problem and not Fran.

Blair takes a sip and blinks in surprise as Nelly Yuki walks into the empty kitchenette. Her eyes are huge, magnified by her glasses, and she's wearing a cardigan as per usual.

"Nelly Yuki!" The alcohol makes Blair deaf to the loudness of her own voice. "You made it!"

"I thought maybe you sent me the wrong dorm number." Nelly glances back down the hall toward the party, face filled with terror and consternation.

Blair hears Dan laugh slightly from beside her and remembers her manners. "Dan this is Nelly Yuki, Nelly Yuki, this is Dan."

As she offers to make a skeptical Nelly a drink, Dan whispers to her, "Does she only go by Nelly Yuki or may I just call her Nelly?"

Blair thinks about this. "I think her full name is more apt. Don't you? It's a catchy name. Nelly Yuki." She says it again, for fun.

Dan shakes his head and stills Blair's hand on the vodka bottle. The contact freeze frames the moment, Blair registering the first time they've ever made proper contact. It's a silly thing to note, Blair realizes, dismissing the tingles his skin on hers sends up her arm and down her spine. "She looks like a lightweight. Go easy on her."

"Right," Blair pulls back the bottle, surveys the cup which is now two-parts vodka and one-part air and dumps a little of the excess liquor into Dan's.

Dan frowns down at his cup. "I didn't say to pour the extra into mine. I won't even make it to class at this rate. This was already half vodka when you first poured it."

"You will." Blair says confidently, adding lemonade to Nelly's cup. Meanwhile, Nelly is standing at the threshold of the party and the kitchen, glancing back and forth nervously as though perhaps she's stumbled into a nightmare. "Your wit will just be compromised but that's okay. I like to be the cleverer one."

"So I've noticed," Dan says with a flicker of amusement.

"Here you are," Blair passes Nelly her drink. "Your first college party."

"Possibly my last." Nelly says despondently as they walk back into the packed dorm room.

It's been two hours and while the room has stopped swaying quite so much for Blair, Nelly now seems to be the unsteady one. Blair surveys her with a grimace. "I really shouldn't have put so much vodka in her drink."

She's surrounded by her friends and Dan who doesn't seem to know anyone else at this party and thus has stuck by her side. They all nod, especially Dan. "I warned you."

"I think I'm going to walk her back to her dorm." Raina and Epperly both make pouty faces but know better than to protest at this point. Blair has stuck it out longer than she normally would have on a weeknight.

"I'll head out too." Dan says, throwing his cup in the trash. While he's not looking, her friends shoot her suggestive glances which she carefully ignores.

"Come on, Nelly," Blair links her arm through Nelly's, but not before she's swapped numbers with some guy wearing a pair of Beats headphones around his neck. "It's time for you to go home."

When they're outside in the cold, a now-sober Blair has to cautiously guide a very off-balance Nelly down the steps.

"Do you know which dorm she's in?" Dan asks, a look of concern on his face.

"I do," Blair says and points toward the right. "We're both that way, you?"

"Durfee," He replies, frowning a little. "I can go with you guys, though, to make sure you get there safely."

Blair shakes her head. "We'll be fine. Nelly Yuki is a very cooperative drunk."

Nelly nods to this emphatically. "Nelly Yuki is very, very cooperative. I could probably retake my- my S… SAT's right now and still get a 2360." She stumbles over the words.

"I'm sure you could." Blair agrees. To Dan she says, "See? She can still remember her SAT score. We're fine. Besides, you'll know we didn't make it if I don't show up tomorrow in class."

"That's not very reassuring." He says.

"Really, Dan. I went to public school in what was perhaps one of the seedier Upstate neighborhoods. You on the other hand," She glances meaningfully at his expertly tailored clothing. "I don't think your private school good manners will prove necessary to us. Thank you, though."

She gives him her most bolstering smile as he reluctantly agrees and says goodnight.

The whole way back to Nelly's dorm her friend raves about some guy named Todd Jansen. By the time they've made it to Nelly's room, Blair feels like she could probably write a biography on the guy.

"Thanksss," The 's' is elongated in Nelly's slurring, the sibilance strong. "Blair, for inviting me."

"Sure, anytime." Blair takes Nelly's phone and switches it off for her, so she can't get any drunken ideas about texting Todd. "I'll see you tomorrow at lunchtime for our study session. You might want to pop an aspirin or two in the morning though."

Nelly nods dutifully and then sinks back into her bed, peacefully asleep before Blair has even closed the dorm door on her.

As she walks back to her own dorm room, she imagines what this walk would have been like with the company of Dan. She forgets the thought just in time to turn the lock in the key.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TBC...


	7. Noted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I am so thankful for you all continuing to read! And to the amazing ASadAir for keeping up the great beta work :)

"You survived," Dan says as he slides into his usual seat beside Blair the next morning in class. There's not a trace of last night's festivities on her face, her skin aglow and eyes bright with amusement. As he assesses her, something flickers in him that he might dare call attraction, if he were bolder.

"Of course I did." She replies in a self-assured tone as he pulls out his books and a pen. "Did you take Adderall to counteract the hangover or something?"

"No, why?" He catches the scrutinizing expression on her face.

She glances down at where his hand spins the pen between his fingertips. "You're fidgeting. Again."

"Oh. I guess I'm just glad it's Friday." He says, even though it's not true. He's been feeling this strange melancholy on Fridays. He's certain it has nothing to do with never seeing her on weekends; positive, in fact.

"Weekend plans or something?" Blair asks, clearly intrigued by his strange expression.

Dan shakes his head. "Research mostly, for the journalism project. You?"

"Same." Blair sighs. "I'm behind thanks to rebelling against my strict schedule in favor of chaperoning Nelly Yuki last night."

"You mean corrupting Nelly Yuki?"

"Same thing." Blair smiles, mischievously. "Should we join forces and tackle the research together this weekend?"

"Isn't Nelly your study buddy?"

"She's on the next train home for the weekend to cleanse the sins." Blair says as though it's obvious.

"Then, sure." Dan feels his fidgety hand still, quieted now by this new prospect of weekend plans with Blair. He had never thought to ask her to study together.

The professor steps up to the podium and he hears Blair tear out a new sheet of notebook paper. Their conversation seamlessly transitions into written form and the lecture is barely heard.

* * *

As the first test of the fall semester begins, Blair idly wonders if maybe she should have been paying more attention to the lectures in Intro to Film rather than her seatmate. She frowns down at the paper and taps her pencil against it.

Glancing over at Dan, she sees he's struggling just as much as he is. The past few weeks have been spent taking the wrong kind of notes and now it seems they will both pay for it.

If she were audacious and less ethical, she would pass him a note asking him the answer to the first test question but she decides to make her best-educated guess instead of cheating. She never thought Intro to Film would be a class she'd have to study for. This was supposed to come naturally to her. Clearly, that will have to change before midterms.

Turning in her test with a sigh, Blair heads out of class wordlessly an hour later, accompanied by an equally dejected Dan. Epperly skips over to them with a smile just outside of class, Raina following behind her. "Easiest test ever, right?"

Blair stares at her, trying to discern whether she is kidding. "No. Who knows the average length of a film scene in the 1960s?"

"Seriously? Professor Donavan spent two classes lecturing on the chronology of scene lengths shortening." Raina chimes in. "I told you, you should pay more attention in class."

"I think I did alright," Dan says. "And that question was easy."

Blair huffs in annoyance. "Well, if I fail and don't pass this class at the end of the semester, I'm blaming you for always distracting me."

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Raina and Epperly exchange a look and she pretends to ignore it. "I should go, you guys are making me late for Latin, a class I would actually like to pass."

"Bonam fortunam!" Epperly calls a little too cheerily after her.

The whole way to Latin, Blair walks in a hurricane of stress. Her scholarship depends on her getting good grades. So far, she's managed a 3.9 GPA, but she's been desperate to bump it up to a 4.0 before the end of the semester. If she can achieve that, she'll secure funding for the next year as well as be closer to graduating with honors.

With a sigh of resignation, she realizes she and Dan may need to trade their predilection for note-passing for actual note-taking. Her brain reminds her that they are friends now and that she doesn't need class to be able to talk to him. She can ask him to go to the cafeteria with her, or the coffee shop down the street, or even to the movies. This idea that she must maximize all the minutes she shares with him during Intro to Film is ridiculous.

Yet, something holds her back and keeps her hesitant, as though she fears she's at risk of showing her cards.

Maybe it's the burn of past fizzled out friendships or the sting of abandonment that still plagues her whenever she thinks of all the times Juliet and the girls made plans without her and their casual dismissal of it afterward – it was as if Blair were silly to even think she might be invited.

But with Dan, she must admit it's different. Sometimes it feels as though the whole auditorium is empty save for the two of them when they are in the middle of a rapid-fire note exchange. Afterward, her hand cramps but as she twists and stretches her wrist to ease the ache, simply the memory of their exchanges prompts her to smile and forget about the discomfort.

And on paper, she can take chances. She likes Blair Waldorf on paper a lot better than the real-life version of herself. On paper, she can be the girl she always wanted to be.

The girl that she wants Dan Humphrey to see.

* * *

While the social notes begin to dwindle in favor of proper note-taking, Dan and Blair's friendship seamlessly cements as the fall semester blurs by.

Suddenly Dan no longer just thinking of her as that girl he sits next to in film class, he's thinking of her as Blair, the friend he relies on most throughout his collegiate life. She's the first person he asks to proofread his essays or to accompany him to an on-campus screening and the person he doesn't want to miss seeing over the break.

The attraction he possibly felt for her initially gets buried in the easy solidification of their friendship. So by November, he forgets it's all about the obvious crush he has on her and lets it feel like some normal extension of their friendship.

Watching her now, as her neat handwriting scrawls across the notebook pages, he thinks yet again about how it'll be weird not seeing her for a whole week starting tomorrow.

She's in the middle of responding to his question of when she plans on leaving for Thanksgiving. It is their last class together before the recess begins and this prospect of separation has strangely been occupying his mind.

_**I'll probably take the train up on Saturday. You?** _

Dan frowns at her reply.

_**The train? Won't that take over 5 hours?** _

_**Yes, thanks for the reminder.** _

Her sarcasm oozes off the page.

_**You can carpool up with me. I leave Saturday too. For Hudson. I'm spending it with my mom this year.** _

_**You realize Albany is north of Hudson? It'll be at least 45 minutes out of the way. I don't mind the train. I have an essay I can write.** _

_**I don't mind. I hear Albany is nice this time of year. I can check out the foliage.** _

He watches Blair stifles a laugh.

_**You sound 80.** _

_**Maybe I'm just an old soul.** _

She shakes her head. He writes another note to her, snatching the paper away.

_**Be ready by noon. I have an excellent road trip playlist ready to go.** _

Blair audibly groans.

_**Oh god, of course, you failed to mention that right away. I'll be sure to pack earplugs.** _

Dan gives her a sideways look before glancing toward the front of the lecture hall in concentration. Offering to drive her up to Albany was a spur of the moment decision, admittedly, but now, he's looking forward to it. The idea of a full three hours without having to use scraps of notebook paper to communicate sound almost exhilarating.

So he smiles to himself and starts mentally planning the playlist that will certainly spark a three-hour-long stream of banter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TBC...
> 
> We will pick-up with a road trip! Thanks for reading! PS Hoping to post the new chapter in December, thank you all for being so patient with my lagging updates!


	8. Road Trips & Mix Tapes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! I hope you enjoy this new chapter, beta'd by the amazing ASadAir!

A weary huff escapes Blair as the car treks along the empty road so slowly that she's convinced she could get to Albany faster by foot.

"When you called yourself an old soul, did you mean it in the literal sense? Because all the local retirees keep passing you on the highway and I'm thinking your soul might be even older than theirs. " Blair finally asks as they cross the state line into Massachusetts. She had mapped the journey last night and it should have only taken an hour, tops.

Dan glowers at her. "I find it interesting how skilled you are at backseat driving when you've never even driven before."

"I've driven before." Blair counters, a little defensively. "I had my learner's permit."

"But not your driver's license?" Dan asks pointedly.

"I forgot to take the test." Her shrug suggests indifference. "I was busy with scholarship applications. Something you wouldn't know about."

The long car ride might be making her a bit feisty, she'll admit. Their friendly banter has slowly been escalating into hostile bickering. Blair reaches into the glove box, desperate for a reprieve from the oldies Dan insists on playing. She can't listen to another minute of Neil Diamond; she'll jump out of the car if she has to.

"'Dan's Sweet Beats'," Blair instantly breaks into laughter. "What is this?"

Dan snatches the homemade CD away from her. "Stop ransacking my vehicle."

Blair easily grabs the CD back from Dan, who is too focused on the road to possibly successfully fight her. "I didn't even know cars still had CD players." She says as she ejects the current CD and pops in much more intriguing "Sweet Beats".

She practically jitters with anticipation as the first notes of a song begin… She quickly realizes it's Spice Up Your Life. "The Spice Girls?"

Dan quickly hits skip on the stereo and an even more incriminating song comes on. As Long As You Love Me by the Backstreet Boys belts out and Blair is now practically doubled over in the passenger seat with laughter. "I can't decide whether the title of this mix is the most humiliating part or the songs on it. What, did you think calling it 'Sweet Beats' would be a less embarrassing cover up for what's actually on this CD?"

"Jenny must have burned another CD on it." Dan replies defensively, cheeks a vibrant shade of red. At her incredulous look, he says. "I'm serious. She loved boy bands. That was like her generation."

"Her generation?" Blair frowns at him. "Aren't you and Jenny only two years apart?"

"You know what I mean." Dan replies sharply.

Blair listens to the chorus and surmises, "I must say this is far preferable to Sweet Caroline. Honestly, I was starting to think you were trying to seduce me with that succession of If You Leave Me Now and Let's Stay Together."

"Of course not." Dan's unexpectedly sharp response makes Blair turn to look at him. He stares intensely at the road and then suddenly busies himself with adjusting the odometer.

"I was kidding." She adds, out of necessity. The last thing she wants to do is make things weird between the two of them before they're even halfway through the drive yet. She changes the subject. "So what's Thanksgiving like at your mother's house?"

"Much better than with my dad. Lily's idea of Thanksgiving dinner is a catered five-course feast served by butlers in vests."

"Sounds horrible," Blair replies sardonically. "Poor you."

He glances at her. "I'm not like her, you know? I am grateful for all she's done to help pay for my education but I don't live as frivolously as the van der Woodsen's."

"Sorry," Blair says automatically, feeling like she's unnerved him. "I didn't mean to imply that you're spoiled."

It's then that she notices she's soured the easy energy between them with all her criticism and snide remarks. But she can't tell why she's being like this. She wants to be nice to him but as soon as she speaks, something sharp comes out instead.

Maybe it's just a by-product of too much conversation. She knew they passed notes for a reason.

Trying to set things back to the way they are supposed to be, Blair asks, "Does your mom cook or does Alexander?" She knows Dan can be prickly about his mother's boyfriend so she hopes this is a safe question.

"Both of them cook. My mom makes the sides while Alexander makes the turkey. There was talk of doing a turkey-free Thanksgiving but Jenny threatened not to come so that got shut down rather quickly." Dan shakes his head. "As if she will actually eat the turkey let alone the mashed potatoes."

Blair remembers her own adolescent eating habits – the pumpkin pie was always her weakness. It's now that she realizes she hasn't even thought about deliberately throwing up in three months. Glancing down at her sweater and skirt, she sees that they fit her properly, not loosely like they used to. Dan starts talking again before she can fret over this fact, which is a good thing because she knows how easy it is to fall back to her old ways over the holidays.

"But the point is, Jenny will be there, which is good. Normally I have to personally chauffeur her from Manhattan to Hudson in order to get her to see our mother. I'm calling this progress." Dan nods to himself.

"Instead, you got stuck chauffeuring me." Blair quips. "I won't ask who's the worst passenger, I think I already know."

Dan softens, hazarding a glance her way as traffic slows. "I'm glad you're here. I would be bored out of my mind right now. I would take your music complaints over an empty passenger seat without a second thought."

"You're a good liar." Blair says with a smile, sinking back into the cushioned leather seat. Her tone turns serious as she says, "But, me too. It's nice talking to you –really talking to you, as you once put it."

Their eyes meet over the center console and Blair notes the rays of sunshine pouring through the windshield as a sudden warmth spreads through her chest.

Blair slides out of the car as Dan unloads her bags out of the trunk. The bags are surprisingly light, he thought for sure she'd have a tendency to overpack just like Jenny, whose bags always cost extra at the airport baggage check.

"Thanks," Blair says, taking the bags. "Come on,"

Dan looks at her quizzically and she continues on. "Aren't you going to come inside and meet my mother? She's still half-convinced that you only drove me here as a ruse to kidnap me."

"Why would she think that?" Dan asks, taken aback.

Blair laughs, shaking her head. "She finds it inconceivable that a 'wealthy boy' like you would be nice just for the sake of being nice." She shrugs. "The usual middle-class skepticism of the upper-class and all that."

Dan stays firmly put by the trunk and Blair sighs. He feels her hand wrapped around his arm, as she gives him a firm tug.

"Smile, at the very least. She'll like you, remember? You told me all mothers love you." Blair doesn't knock, she just opens the door and drops her bag in the hallway. "Mom?"

Dan hears the sound of footsteps and then sees a slightly older version of the woman in the framed photograph on Blair's desk back at school, rounding the corner. "Blair, honey."

She comes over and hugs her daughter, embracing her tightly. Then, she looks at Dan and smooths her hair before extending a hand. "I'm Eleanor."

"Dan," Dan shakes her hand firmly. "It's a privilege to meet you."

He wants to say more, like how lovely her home is, having the cozy feel that Lily's Upper East Side sprawling penthouse could never obtain, or like how she raised the most impressive girl he had ever met. But he's suddenly nervous and his mouth feels sort of dry so he just sticks his hands and his pockets and looks at Blair.

Blair rolls her eyes at him for some unknown reason and then his phone begins to ring. He glances at the screen, frowning down at the time as Jenny's photo appears on screen. He declines the call.

Blair apologizes for him. "Dan's supposed to be in Hudson by now, I've made him late."

Eleanor smiles, "It's quite alright. Thank you for driving Blair all the way here, Dan. That was very sweet of you. Maybe next time you're upstate we can plan on you staying for dinner?"

"Definitely." Dan says, nodding. "I would like that."

"Great," Eleanor smiles brightly and puts a hand on his shoulder as he heads for the door. "Thank you again, Dan. I'm relieved you got my daughter here safely."

Over her shoulder, Blair mouths, 'told you', as though to reiterate the fact that her mother was quite wary of them. She gives him a small wave and Dan wonders if her mother wasn't between them if they would hug right now. Instead, they are left with this strange goodbye that shouldn't feel monumental at all since it's only for seven days but somehow, it does.

"Have a nice Thanksgiving," Dan says, stepping onto the porch.

"You too," Eleanor says.

"See you, Dan." Blair gives him a small wave and then turns around, just as he watches a mysteriously melancholy expression spreads across her face.

It's what he thinks about the whole drive to Hudson. It's the first time he lets himself wonder seriously if there might be something more.

* * *

_**9th grade.** _

_**Albany, NY.** _

_This is going to be the best Thanksgiving ever, Blair is certain of it. Nate and his mother, Anne, are spending it at their house. On top of that, Harold, Blair's donor dad, is coming with his partner, Roman, who Blair has Skyped with and finds quite charming. Her mother is apparently having a date over – a lawyer type named Jack, but Blair doesn't even mind._

_"Pumpkin pie." Blair says firmly, eyes unblinking._

_"No," Nate says, his mouth upturned in a way that suggests he knows he will get his way. "Apple."_

_"Pumpkin."_

_"Apple."_

_They continue on like this for ten minutes, just debating pie varieties, until they're interrupted by a ringing doorbell._

_"Your dad!" Nate says excitedly._

_"Harold," Blair corrects. She's always careful to make sure not to call him 'Dad.' That would be more than Harold bargained for._

_She goes to the door and lets him in, he hugs her as warmly as a real father might. Roman does the same and she suddenly feels like the pair of them makes up for the loss of an actual dad._

_"Blair bear," Harold doesn't shy away from using Blair's nickname he coined. It always makes her feel fuzzy inside. "Introduce me to this Nate of yours."_

_Blair feels embarrassed for a moment that he called him 'her Nate' but looking at Nate trailing in from the kitchen, she sees her friend doesn't seem to mind one bit. "Nice to meet you, sir."_

_"You too." Harold beams. "It's great to see you outside of that screen." He references their Skype sessions which Nate is frequently present for._

_"Where's that busy mother of yours?" Harold asks, glancing around._

_Eleanor bustles in from the kitchen where she was basting the turkey and takes over as hostess. The night flies from there, easily the best holiday Blair has ever had. She eats more than she thinks she's eaten the entire year too, a full serving plus dessert._

_Not once does she think of ridding her body of the calories. She won't think of that until next year – when Nate's gone, Harold and Roman are back in France, and she's being iced out by her so-called friends. There would be no one around to make her feel beautiful, no lonely sorrows to remind her that she'll never be enough._

_But for this one deliriously happy Thanksgiving, everything is perfect. Magical, even._

* * *

It's a Friday morning and Dan should be sitting next to Blair in Intro to Film studies but instead, he's watching his mom and sister fight about Black Friday sales. Right, two more days to go until he trades familial drama for collegiate routine. Momentarily, he thinks of texting Blair but they texted almost all day yesterday so he decides not to.

Through their rampant exchange of messaging, he learned it had just been Blair, her mom, their neighbor Dorota and her family yesterday. So all in all, her Thanksgiving hadn't been very eventful. Dan's too had been lowkey with Jenny too busy scoping out the next day's sales on her phone and his mom and Alexander taking PDA to new, uncomfortable heights. His dad and Lily had FaceTimed them briefly but other than that, he had plenty of time to text with Blair all about how campus, classes, and quizzes were preferable to this overload of family time.

It's so strange, he still thinks, how just one year ago he had tried to stretch out each St. Judes' holiday break as much as possible. But now, he finds himself counting down the hours until break is over. Blair, too, said she's in a rush to get back to campus, citing fear Georgina will have burned down their dorm with her tendency to leave the flat iron switched on before jetting off to the Maldives for vacation.

Staring at the clock, he mentally calculates the hours until he's driving them back to Yale.

When the clock finally strikes nine the following morning, he's already at the station. Blair insisted on taking the train down to Hudson to save him the extra trip upstate. He waits patiently by the tracks, watching the Amtrak's tarnished train cars whirl by.

At last, the Maple Leaf pulls up and Dan feels a rush of anticipation as it screeches to a halt. One by one passengers deboard, most of them clad in touristy shirts bearing wine-themed slogans like "Rose All Day" or "You Had Me At Merlot." He winces at the thought of Blair being sandwiched between one of these winos in a coach-class seat. He smiles with relief when he sees her finally crossing the platform toward him.

"Chardon-hey," Dan says wryly, in greeting. He flicks his gaze toward a bleached blonde middle-aged woman who not only has on a pun-laden tee but also a tote bag with yet another cringe-y wine-quip.

Blair heaves a groan, visibly shaking off her disdain. "Sorry to disappoint but I didn't stop by the vineyards to pick you up one of those monstrosities."

Dan takes the leather weekender bag off her shoulder. "I'm devastated."

Blair lets out a breathy laugh as they walk up the steps and into the daylight. "You saved me. I was going stir-crazy. My mother kept making me be her fit model and I swear I've had acupuncture sessions with far less needle pricking."

He lifts the hatchback of his Volkswagen Golf and sets Blair's bag beside his. Once he's inside the car, he sees Blair procure a few CDs from her bags. He looks at her quizzically.

"You didn't really think I was going to listen to more Neil Diamond, did you? Or more of 'Dan's Sweet Beats'?" Blair asks as she pops one of the discs in.

"We'll start with Vivaldi – it stimulates the mind."

Dan tries not to show his dismay at having to listen to classical for the next three hours. But then he remembers that he's headed back to the place where he belongs and the symphony of violins accompanying the drive suddenly feels right.

Within an hour, they are back to bantering and acting like they are five seconds away from a physical fight. And all the while, the words 'I missed you' echo in his mind.

When they cross the state line Blair sinks back into her chair and looks over at him. He could almost swear her expression says what he doesn't find the courage to say.

* * *

**TBC...**


End file.
